


moon pt.2

by Fxckxxp



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-09-01 00:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fxckxxp/pseuds/Fxckxxp
Summary: After graduation, Nico got — in order — a job, an apartment, and a Vespa.





	moon pt.2

After graduation, Nico got — in order — a job, an apartment, and a Vespa.

The job is new. At a bar close to Saint Peter’s that just reopened after the August holidays where he makes coffee at the crack of dawn. At first Marti thought he was bluffing, because if Nico makes a cappuccino anything like he makes zabaione, he’ll be fired within the week. But it turns out he’s actually quite good when he wants to be. Marti’s — with a lopsided foam heart — can attest to that. However, Nico did serve it to him with a wink, and maybe Marti is biased anyway. 

The apartment is old, his late grandma’s. Flowery wallpaper, crown molding with sculpted roses. Filippo’s came over a few times to help them tear it down, but eventually (after many broken nails and stubbed thumbs and countless YouTube home makeover tutorials) they just gave up and painted over it. A warm white. With one bedroom wall a forest green. And Marti won’t lie, Nico has a good eye for this stuff. His mix-matched style is eclectic, not haphazard. The only thing he’s had to get used to is the absence of Marisol. Oh, and the lack of air conditioning. Marti’s quick to call him spoiled — lovingly, of course— but Nico just raises just eyebrows like he knows better and kisses him every time. 

And the Vespa — the Vespa is timeless. A vintage one from his dad. A bit rusty and baby blue, the classic kind tourists take pictures of when they’re parked on the cobblestones. It ticks to life just barely every time Nico starts it up, garnering a few startled old ladies when the exhaust pops. 

Whenever Marti sees Nico sitting on it — the buckle of his helmet unstrapped below his chin, a curl being flattened until it hooks over the bridge of his nose — he can’t help but smile, thinking _that’s my boyfriend._

(That thought still sends his heart into scary-uneven palpitations sometimes, possibly rivaling the irregular kicks of the engine under him.)

The first time they rode it, it was just for fun. To nowhere in particular. Nico was waiting outside of school for Marti on his first day of his last year like he’s the heartthrob in an 80’s romantic comedy. (Marti wouldn’t doubt that thought crossed his mind.) But he got on back anyway, bystanders be damned, and didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Nico’s waist as soon as they turned the corner. 

They rode north towards Villa Ada — and, yeah, sometimes with Nico Marti’s life does feel like a movie. 

While fashionable — a head turner — the Vespa is also practical. Last week Marti woke up late for a test and the twenty-five minute bus ride turned into a ten minute near death race as Nico sped him there.

As summer came and went these things lost a bit of their novelty. The new place. The new ride. Nico’s now in the territory of complaining about his coworkers rather than sucking up to them. 

It’s normal. And it was a good summer. Hard to think they’ve been together for almost a year now. 

“I can’t sleep,” Nico drags out, playful, rolling over and poking Marti’s side.

Marti can’t either. He’s not usually one for coffee after dinner, but Nico’s parents ordered one for everyone. Plus it’s still hot. He feels like an old man. 

“What time is it?”

Nico reaches over Marti to grab his phone on the bedside table. The glow is bright, makes him wince. “A little past three.” He doesn’t bother to roll back to his side, just sticks to Marti. Chest to chest.

He allows it for a minute, until he’s sure another one will meld their skin together. 

“What do you want to do, then?” Marti asks it equally as playful. 

His eyes have adjusted enough to see Nico’s glint. Wearing a smile wide enough to reveal teeth that soon clamp on his bottom lip. Devilish. He raises his eyebrows twice, quickly. Wiggles his head.

Marti takes it as an invitation to kiss him, rolled on their sides with a hand raking through the hair by Nico’s ear. He smooths his thumb over the shell of it, smiles into parted lips, feels his face get hot when Nico makes a surprised sound. 

Nico’s hand smooths down his back, pulls him close, but he pops off with a loud, intentional smack. 

“This is nice,” he hums, pecking Marti again. “But I had something else in mind.”

Confused, Marti lowers one eyebrow. Nico will find any excuse to be cryptic. “Okay?”

“Let’s go for a ride.”

Marti sighs, tugs the hair by Nico’s ear. “I mean, I’m trying.”

That earns him a well deserved shove in the shoulder. He was half-joking, anyway. 

“I mean outside,” Nico laughs, and Marti’s pinched smile and dipped chin lets him know his word choice isn’t doing him any favors in this situation. “On the Vespa!” He clarifies, another light slap to Marti’s chest.

Marti’s rolling his eyes, already shuffling off the bed and slipping his unsocked feet into shoes. He calls Nico stupid, but it sounds more sweet than sour. 

They’re just a block south from where Nico used to live, the glow of Saint Peter’s unmistakable above the rooftops once they step outside. They hop on, and in a few turns on to the main road it’s in clear view. Another turn and they’re riding along the wall on the west side.

Nico still hasn’t bought another helmet. And he won’t take no for an answer when he sticks it on Marti instead of himself, calling him _precious cargo._

Especially in the summer, it’s a rarity to look down an empty street. So it’s a nice surprise to see no one out. (Granted, Marti doesn’t take a lot of three a.m. excursions.) Because of that, he holds no reservations snaking his arms around Nico — flat palms on his stomach or fingers on his sides or even crossed forearms over his ribs, squeezing. Closing his eyes, even, just feeling the warm breeze and listening to the gears shift in mechanically, nasally hums. 

He’s smiling. First pleased, then just simply happy. Marti’s always been a smiley person, but the ease in which it comes these days is unparalleled and unconscious. No one’s ever complimented his smile before until Nico. 

(Starry eyes, a hand coming up to rest on his cheek with a thumb pressing his lip. _“You are so cute when you do that.” “Do what?” “Smile. It makes me happy.”_

Really. Someone pulled Nico straight from a movie.)

Nico makes a right and slows down, almost halving their speed.

So Marti opens his eyes and first looks at the back of Nico’s head. He’s undoubtedly smiling, too — cheeks pulled so tight Marti sees them round on the sides of his face.

And then he looks out, and something like an anvil drops in his stomach.

Immediately, Marti knows Nico turned down this street on purpose. The large, slabbed concrete street lights like a guide to something unfamiliar and to something far away — when Marti had this same view almost a year ago they sure felt like that. 

He looks — behind him: Saint Peter’s looming in its pale blue and orange glow; in front of him: Castel Sant’Angelo ahead and off to the right — in a sort of awe, but this time with less of an _is this really happening?_ and more with an _of course this is really happening_

Leave it to Nico to bring Marti right back to so many feelings. Back to flossy butterflies in his stomach, afraid to open his mouth because their presence might escape through his lips. Back to a thudding heart, afraid to touch Nico because it would be prevalent even in his fingertips. 

Back to pure bliss, the most like him he’s ever felt in his life.

Nico looks back at Marti, smiling like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

That cheesy, lovely, smug, _stupid_ little cinematic-minded asshole.

Marti loves him so much.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is but I do know that Via della Conciliazione will never be the same.
> 
> Talk to me on [tumblr!](https://bisexualcaravaggio.tumblr.com/) 💛


End file.
